


Curses

by Gearsmoke



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Crack, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gearsmoke/pseuds/Gearsmoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(From back when this was written.)<br/>So the other night I couldn't get to sleep, and instead my twisted little walnut-like brain churned up a whole slew of bizarre ideas.</p><p>Wrote this up quickly for lulz.  Forgive any errors.</p><p>Rating: PG-13 for wieners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curses

A man on his horse. 

This, he knew, was a cursed land. It became obvious as soon as he rode down into what had from a distance appeared to be a pleasantly green spring-fed river valley in the middle of an inhospitable desert. His horse seemed to be unaware of the evil into which they were heading, and so was he, until it was too late.

It was at the moment when the traveler dismounted and approached a cheery moss-edged brook, bubbling forth from a stony wellspring. He was thirsty and the water looked inviting, yet as he knelt to scoop a handful to his mouth, the river suddenly became cloudy and streaky, and clung with a viscous quality to his fingertips. He backed away and turned to look upstream where there was growing a thicket of bullrushes. And before his eyes, the fat brown flowers appeared as erect phalluses, and as one ejaculated into the river.

Scrambling back from the tainted water, the traveler backed into a tree. He had noticed it earlier and thought it might be an apple or pear tree. Only then, when he was sitting at its base, did he notice the fleshy pendulous quality of its load, each bough laden with hairy dangling testicular fruit. Under his hands, the moss had the distinctive texture of wiry hairs, leading into the oddly warm, smooth trunk he was resting against.

In the river, long-legged birds with penises for bills were probing into the gooey stream, and even the insects that flew above his head, dragonflies and such, had a familiar shape when they stopped long enough to be recognized. It was everywhere, and the longer he stayed there, the more he saw. Everything that could be phallic… WAS phallic.

He curled his lip, disgusted. What WAS this!? Someone’s sick fantasy land? A glamour to screw with the lost? Whatever it was, it disturbed and frightened him, and he wanted to leave. The traveler looked for his horse, which had wandered into a nearby meadow. The trail that led up to it was host to a colony of fat pink mushrooms, peeping shyly from under curled ferns and round reddish stones. He had the odd sense that they were laughing at him, in as much as mushrooms could possibly laugh.

Climbing up to the meadow, his steed, a noble bay stallion, bobbed its head as it tore up and ate mouthfuls of grass. The horse paused as its rider approached, standing with head bowed. Something was wrong. “Come on, boy.” The traveler called, patting the horse’s flanks. “We need to get the hell out of here!”

Almost sadly, the stallion turned toward him, making him scream in terror. The beast was now cursed as well. Where once had been a handsome equine face, now had become, like everything else there, a bare pink male organ, hanging flaccidly from under its mane, complete with downy scrotum where once had been the animal’s jaw muscles.

“NOOO!!” He jerked and threw his arms up defensively.

From the other side of the Dethbus, Nathan looked up from his newspaper, commenting, “Hey Murderface, your boner is showing.”


End file.
